


Sidekicks

by romanticalgirl



Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday to <a href="http://likeadeuce.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://likeadeuce.livejournal.com/"></a><b>likeadeuce</b>!</p><p>Originally posted 8-6-07</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sidekicks

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to [](http://likeadeuce.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://likeadeuce.livejournal.com/)**likeadeuce**!
> 
> Originally posted 8-6-07

“You _gotta_ be kiddin’ me.” Logan took one look at the guy standing in the middle of the Danger Room and then looked back at Scott and his buddy, Richards. “There’s no way.”

“There is a way.” Scott gestured to the case of beer sitting on the chair. “You do this. You get that.”

“I’m not one of your students, you know. I can buy my own beer.” He watches Johnny Storm through the glass, smirking as the kid bounces off the walls leaving heat trails in his wake. “Get Bobby in there.”

“Bobby’s got some issues since the thing with Pyro.” Scott shrugged. “Look, your accelerated healing power allows you to deal with him better than any of the rest of us. Reed brought a special suit for you to wear…”

Logan cast an offended look at the pile of blue material next to the case of beer. “I’m _not_ putting that thing on. I don’t care if you bought me a damn brewery.”

“It’s either that or the very real possibility of ending up naked, Logan.”

Logan smiled wolfishly at Scott and headed for the Danger Room door. “Better call Jeannie then, Slim.”

**

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” Johnny blasted up to the observation glass and glared at Reed and Scott, an odd look with his face fully inflamed. “You’re putting me in here with a complete lunatic.”

“Not a completely lunatic,” Scott assured him.

“Never _certified_ anyway,” Reed added. “Look, Johnny, we need someone who can handle your heat threshold and the rest of us can’t quite manage it, even before you go supernova, so Logan has kindly agreed.”

“What about Bobby Drake? Hell, what about Sam Guthrie. C’mon. I don’t want to be in here with a psycho.”

“He’s not psychotic, Johnny.”

“Yeah, you have to say that,” Johnny snapped at Scott. “You work with him.”

“No, I have to say that because he’s one of the good guys. Victor Creed is a psychotic. Logan’s…”

“Not to interrupt,” Reed interrupted, “but he’s right behind you.”

“I _hate_ you, Richards.” Johnny blasted off, barely escaping the metal _snick_ of Logan’s claws.

Scott set the Danger Room protocols for their session then they both watched for a moment, listening to the slightly muted sounds of Johnny’s blasting, Logan’s cursing and the sound of bones – hopefully Logan’s – breaking. “Well,” Scott sighed, “I think that should keep them occupied for at least another half hour.”

“At which point Jean and Sue should be back.”

“And the movie should be over.”

“A most excellent plan, Dr. Richards.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Summers.” They headed out of the control room toward the den, leaving the sounds of their resident troublemakers in the distance, what faint echoes made it through easily drowned out as they began discussing the physics and improbability of Jackie Chan’s cinematic career.

~**~

Logan grabbed Johnny around the throat tight and held him there for a few seconds. “Listen to me, kid.”

“Lemme…go…God…damn…” His flames extinguished, reigniting with a coughing sputter as Logan released him. Johnny shook his head and blinked as he slumped to the Danger Room floor. “Everyone needs to just stop doing that.”

Logan looked up at the control room window. “They’re gone. They don’t know that we know they’re gone. They think that we’re stupid enough to sit in here and beat the crap out of each other while they go of and…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the problem. There’s nothing better for them _to_ to. They’re both…boring enough that watching us try to kill each other is their prime entertainment.” Johnny rubbed his throat. “Ow, by the way.”

“Pretty sad that a guy who can…” Logan shook his head. “Anyway. They’re not watching, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking like this, we’d be dodging Sentinels or something. So they’re off…being themselves, so you and I have a choice.”

“Is one of the choices the kind that doesn’t involve someone choking me?”

“Well, kid, I don’t know what you’re into, so I can't say for sure, but I was thinking there’s a case of beer in there with my name on it. Or, better yet, we hop on my bike and hightail it into town while they’re none the wiser.”

“I vote for option two.”

“Hope you can hang on, kid. I ride fast.”

“Dude.” Johnny gave him a look as he got to his feet. “Not any faster than I can fly.”

**

“So, tell me, kid, I gotta know.” Logan was three inches away from finishing the bottle of whiskey and had a line of fallen soldiers of beer sitting on the edge of the table. “How do you…”

Johnny blinked, pretty sure the process wasn’t supposed to take as long as it did, and then realized he’d closed his eyes instead. He opened them and focused on the middle Logan. “What? This?” He snapped his fingers and a burst of flame shot up, leaving a brown streak on the glass of the overhead lamp. “Just do.”

“No, kid.” Logan leaned in conspiratorially. “You know.”

“Reed realized the problem right off, dude. Made me these special condoms. Weird polymer shit.”

“No. Your brother-in-law made you condoms?” Logan paused and then shook his head, draining the last three inches at the thought.

“Wasn’t my brother-in-law at the time, and he said it was better than a lawsuit, though I assured him, all the ladies go home happy, regardless of whether or not…well, let’s just say I get used to the smell of scorched hair unless they…let’s not talk about this.”

“Christ, you’re as bad as Superman. You know he’d blow off the top of that Lane gal’s head.”

Johnny laughed and drained his own glass and managed to pour another drink, ending up with most of it in the glass. “I do not want to talk sex with you, dude. Or, to be honest, with anyone that isn’t some hot chick who’s already underneath me.”

“Fair enough.” Logan snagged Johnny’s bottle, one claw extended when Johnny started to protest, killing the words before they even formed. “So tell me.”

Johnny frowned at the theft and at the sudden emptiness of his glass as he set it down. “What?”

“How do you live with him.”

“Reed?”

“Yeah? I mean, how do you not kill him? I want to strangle Slim and Hank most of the time and I have a whole damn mansion to run around in. And a hell of a lot more freedom.”

“I have a lot of sex.” Johnny waved at the waitress, signaling for another bottle. She sighed and brought two over, earning her a smile and a slightly singed tip. “And a lot of booze. Also, I nod a lot.”

“Nod.”

“Yup. They talk just to hear themselves. They don’t need my input. They don’t want my input. They want a captive audience to expound to. They’re a lot like criminal masterminds that way.” He unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured a good measure of it down his throat. “Smile. Nod. Occasionally be a smart ass. They’ll never know you’re not listening.”

“Huh.” Logan opened his own bottle and took a long swig. “You’re pretty smart, kid.”

”Yeah,” Johnny exhaled a sigh and then smiled slightly. “Just don’t tell anyone, would ya?”  



End file.
